A New Year's Resolution In August
by MarauderLife
Summary: Canon L/J story.  Lily's POV, in diary form.  Diary starts at the end of the summer before 6th year.
1. My New, Dilapidated Diary

**8/03**

**My Bedroom, 4:00 pm**

Well this is new to me, a sort of New Year's resolution. I mean, it's August, but same thing really. Yesterday during a rather loud and hilarious argument with Petty, I decided that I really ought to write down the goings-on in my life, for personal pleasure. How else would I, in years to come, recall the smart insults I make up, such as, "horse-faced, hippo-kisser," because if we're being honest, Petty is horsey, and Vernon truly resembles a hippopotamus.

Therefore, I have decided to write in this diary. It's a rather faded, dilapidated little thing that I found at the muggle bookstore, but this way no one will be interested in picking it up and perusing its pages. Anyway, I like it. I guess if I'm starting this off right, I should describe myself and current situation, so later I can look back and laugh at how pathetic I was.

_A Short Summary of Lily Marie Evans' Appearance and Life at Age 16_

Appearance:

_Height:_ 5'4." So basically short.

_Body Type:_ Generally ok. I get a bit pudgy after eating…and I eat a lot.

_Eyes:_ Emerald green, or so I'm told. I just see green.

_Hair:_ Wavy/curly/out of control, reaches halfway between shoulders and elbows, a darkish shade of red. Collaborates with my eyes to make me look like a Christmas tree.

_Skin:_ Pale. I never tan. It's depressing.

Life:

_Home:_ Medium sized house in Cokeworth. I've lived here ever since I was born, except when I'm at school. My home is the best place in the world, when my sister's not here.

_School:_ I go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the second best place in the world. This September I'll be a sixth year.

Family: Loving, odd, fanciful, and bit silly mother; dependable, loving, and self-proclaimed funny father; disgusting, giraffe-necked, vapid, stupid, aggravating sister

Friends: Marlene McKinnon, tall, gorgeous, brunette, hilarious, crazy, boy-obsessed, freaking smart, loyal to the point of idiocy; Alice Maloney, small and curvy, sweet, blond, hard-working, also loyal to the point of idiocy.

Enemies: James Potter, Sirius Black, Chloe Brown; no description, they piss me off

Boyfriend: None, oh well.

Blood Status: Isn't it depressing that this actually matters? Anyway, I'm a muggle born witch, or a mudblood, as a select group likes to say

So that's me, summed up in a few bullet points. Depressing, I know. Ah well, can't be helped. Anyway I have to go. Petty is screaming in the doorway. I think she realized that I switched her conditioner with odor-reducing foot cream.

"Lily, you immature little bitch! I can't _believe_ you! That stupid cream is making it horribly oily. And Vernon is coming round for dinner. He can't see me like this! Look at my hair!"

"I'm looking, Petty. I'm looking, and I'm laughing."

How very rude. Petty snapped my quill. Good thing I had another on the bedside table. I do believe I shall be informing mum. Ew, Vernon is coming for dinner. Fat lump that he is, he'll probably eat everything and then, rude arse that he is, criticize my mum's cooking. I can't stand him. But then again, I can't stand Petty either, so I do believe they are a good match. I must say, it's quite amusing to see them together. Petty looks like a giraffe, and Vernon a walrus crossed with an elephant. Simply adorable.

**The Sitting Room, 8:30 pm**

Dinner was a spectacular debacle. Mum made a fantastic beef casserole, and Vernon ate ¾ of it. Then he suggested that next time we order in for dinner. Dad thought it would be funny to make Vernon sit on the smallest chair at the table, resulting in the chair cracking and Vernon falling on the floor. I chose to spend my time embarrassing Petty in front of her boyfriend.

"Petty, do you want to go to the spa with me this weekend? They have this one special foot massage for people with mutated toes. I'm sure you'd love it." Vernon spent the next fifteen minutes peering fearfully under the table at Petunia's feet as she glared daggers at me. It was amazing.

My mother kindly asked Vernon to stay for tea (she makes the worst decisions sometimes) and so we all awkwardly moved to the sitting room. My dad offered some cut-up pineapples to everyone (he has an odd obsession with pineapples). No one took him up on the offer, so he put the plate on his lap and began to eat them all on his own. After a few minutes, Vernon succumbed to his own fatness and grabbed some. I sat on the floor by the fireplace, ignoring everyone.

"Lily, dear, would you please answer Vernon's question," my mother said with a pointed expression. I looked up, and realized that Mr. Walrus-Elephant had been talking to me.

"Sorry, what?"

"I asked where you go to school. Petunia never said, just that it's a boarding school."

Now this was going to be fun. Petty is super paranoid about the fact that I'm a witch. It's actually the reason that we're no longer close. To her, I'm a freak, abnormal and weird. At least that's what she says. But when I got my Hogwarts letter, she sent a letter to Professor Dumbledore asking if she too could be admitted. I found his reply in her room. It was kind, but still a denial to her request. Ever since then, Petty has hated me. It's a huge source of tension and stress in my life, and I generally don't talk about it. Not many people know about my issues with my sister.

"It's in Scotland. It's a bit out of the way, you definitely don't know it." I wasn't interested in talking to Mr. Walrus-Elephant, but at my perfunctory reply, both my parents narrowed their eyes. I rambled my way through a few more sentences. "The school's name is Sickleknut. You can't find a website, they don't believe in the internet. They send out letters to students that they_ want_ to have at their school."

I glanced at Petunia, who was sitting rigidly next to Vernon on the couch, forced to slide over to the end because Vernon was so fat. She was furious, and I grinned openly. Not only had she caught the wizarding world money reference in the name of the fake school, but she also understood my snide reference to her lack of magical blood.

"Hmph. Sickleknut. And is it a good school? I haven't seen it ranked at all. Bit unfortunate, isn't it?" Vernon looked at my parents with an accusing expression, as if suggesting that they were too poor to pay for a good school.

"Actually, Vernon, it's off the charts. Literally. They request to be kept off because there is, in fact, no comparison between my school and all others in the UK. We're so much better." I adopted haughty expression, and Mr. Walrus-Elephant looked taken aback at someone matching his snooty attitude. My mum smiled behind her hand and my dad snorted openly. Petty continued to look as if she had swallowed a lemon.

After conversation continued in this dull sense for some horribly boring hour or so, Vernon finally left, saying he had to speak with his boss about a promotion. His boss is his father…he owns a drill company called Grunnings. I expect Grunnings will be taken over by someone else by the time Vernon is old enough to have a hand in running it. Mr. Walrus-Elephant certainly isn't smart enough to keep the business afloat.

My parents are still sitting on the couch, but now they're laughing. I presume by my dad's hand gestures that they're making fun of Vernon's large belly. Petty is upstairs, probably calling Vernon to check if he got home okay. But honestly would it really be that big a deal if he was hit by a car? Maybe then he would get a little flatter. I think it would do him good.

My butt aches from sitting on the floor. I'm going to make a cup of hot cocoa and then go upstairs and write to Marlene and Alice. I never replied to the letters they sent me last week. I'm _so_ jealous of them. Mar is in Greece, visiting some cousins, and Alice is in France with her mother, staying at their beach house in Marseilles.

I think I'll also take some chocolate up with me. I've been chipping away at a huge slab I bought from Honeydukes just before the summer hols. Yum.

**8/10**

**My Bedroom, 11:00 am**

You know what you should never do? Look in the mirror when you wake up. Bad, bad, bad idea. I really don't need to be confronted by my own revolting face first thing in the morning. Gah. It's scary.

Anyway, this past week has been bloody boring. Petty is with Vernon all the time, my friends are still away on vacation, my dad went back to work after his three week break, and my mum is always out and about with her friends, going to garden club meetings and the like. So I'm left alone to my own devices, which basically means sitting at home, watching television (got to get my fill before school), and eating too much. Eating _way_ too much. I really shouldn't be allowed to make my own meals. I make…a lot of food.

On the plus side, I wake up whenever I want, unlike the bloody 6:30 am at school. And here, just sitting in the house, I don't have to worry about makeup and hair and the like. It's a beautiful life. In fact, at the moment I'm in a white tank-top and pajama bottoms decorated in little teddy-bears holding hearts. Not the most attractive outfit, but quite comfortable. A Christmas present from Aunt Louise. Dear Aunt Louise. What a character. She likes her wine, and her fine young men, she does. It's always a treat to flirt with her newest catch at family get-togethers.

I do have something to look forward to. Marles is coming back in a week! She replied quickly to my letter from last week. I expect she used express owl mail—her family is superbly wealthy and it wouldn't have stressed their budget. She is trying to persuade me to go clubbing with her when she gets home. There's this new nightclub downtown in London that's apparently all the rage, and allows teens aged 15 and up to go on Thursday nights. She wants to stay at the Leaky Cauldron for a week before school and go then. I, personally, am completely uninterested. I would like to stay in Diagon Alley with her, but am unwilling to break my daily routine of slovenliness for a bunch of perverted males only interested in rubbing up against me. Also, I can't dance.

We'll see what happens. I hope Alice goes with us, if I must go. She will stay sane around all of the guys; she already has her soul mate in Frank Longbottom. Frank graduated from Hogwarts last year. It's going to be tough for them being apart, but they'll see each other on Hogsmeade weekends, and he's in London at the Ministry of Magic, so Alice is seeing him before school. He's in training to be an Auror. I'm so jealous! That's what I want to do when I get out of Hogwarts. Actually, Alice, Marles, and I are all planning to go to the Auror Academy.

Alice and Frank are perfect. They complement each other in everything. Frank is tall, quiet, masculine, and muscular. Alice is small, cheerful, and bright. They are attached at the hip when possible, they read each other's minds, they finish each other's sentences. They are absolutely adorable. Alice and Frank are honestly the source of my belief that relationships work.

I ought to get out of bed and make some breakfast. My stomach is growling. The pineapple-shaped clock (courtesy of my father) on my dresser tells me that it's 12:00 pm. It actually does tell me. I charmed it last year to say the time out loud every hour, because I find the beeps that it generally makes incredibly annoying. I think I shall have some toast and tea to eat. With a lot of butter on the toast.

**The Kitchen Table**

**8:00 pm**

Poop. Petty was home for dinner. Vernon left for Scotland this afternoon to visit his superbly rich uncle for a week. Petty reminded us of Uncle Humphrey's wealth every two minutes for a week when she found out. Stupid, shallow girl. Uncle Humphrey aside, as much as I dislike Vernon, unfortunately his absence means that Petty will be home more often. I dunno how I'll stand it. Merlin _please_ let time pass quickly so Marles and Alice can get back and save me from suffering.

Today was more eventful than I expected, surprisingly enough. I went out to grab some groceries for mum (she wanted potatoes for dinner…and I think Vernon emptied us out of potatoes at some point) and I came across Hestia Jones in the chocolate aisle. Hestia is going into seventh year. She's also in Gryffindor, so we know each other fairly well. She's quite nice, a bit quiet, and beautiful, with long straight black hair that I would kill for. A bunch of males in the Hogwarts population are after her, though there's no point because she is completely uninterested in dating. She's so studious; she puts the rest of us to shame. One time a guy tried to interrupt her studying to ask her out, and he spent the next three weeks in the hospital wing, trying to regain a somewhat human-like form again. Even now, Davy Andrews has a bit of a green hue to his face.

Hestia and I chatted for a bit. She's also stuck in Cokeworth, but she just got here. Her father is at an international broomstick convention in Turkey (Mr. Jones works for the Nimbus Company) and Mrs. Jones went with him. Hestia was left behind because they wouldn't be back until September 5th, after school already started, so she's staying with her aunt. This is actually nice because I have someone nearby from the wizarding world to hang out with! Besides Sev. Because that's a whole other story. One that makes me want to scream and throw things and also curl up in a ball and never move. All at the same time.

But anyway, Hestia and I are meeting up for lunch tomorrow. Which means I don't have to see Petty or anything. Excellent! Alright. I guess I ought to take a shower now. Ought to stay clean, and all that. Overrated, cleanness is. Merlin, I'm a slob.


	2. Sushi and Stories

**A/N**___AHHH I DESERVE TO DIE AN EXCRUCIATINGLY PAINFUL DEATH. IT HAS BEEN ABOUT 10000000 YEARS SINCE THE FIRST CHAPTER WAS UPLOADED. *cowers*_

**8/11**

**Hospital Waiting Room, 4:30 pm**

How the hell do I find myself in these horrible situations? Really, I must attract extraordinarily bad luck. The day started out fine. _Better_ that fine, even. There was no hint or omen that it would turn catastrophic. I woke up to the sun shining, the birds singing, the neighborhood children playing happily out on the sidewalk.

It was a _good hair day_. I see now that it had been too good to be true. Let me explain. My hair is generally frizzy and unmanageable without the aid of copious amounts of Sleakeazy's Hair Potion or a whole bunch of spells and charms. My friends like to say that the curly, wavy, general unruliness is attractive, but I know better. Generally my hair is confined to a bun or messy braid that still doesn't fully contain its wildness. So imagine my surprise when I unraveled it from the braid it had been in overnight to find smooth, sleek, shiny waves of hair tumbling down my shoulders. Insanity. Pure insanity!

Then another fabulous moment occurred when I stumbled my sleepy way down the stairs, still in shock over my hair. I walked into the kitchen, and Petty wasn't there! Usually she's sitting at the kitchen table, resting her horsey head on her arms, griping to mum about some stupid friend or another. But she was miraculously absent! Instead, mum was at the oven, just pulling out a fresh, warm batch of chocolate chip cookies. Oh, the beauty of life.

"Good morning, Lils. Just in time for the cookies! Lovely hair, by the way. Did you charm it?" I put aside the indignation I felt at mum not assuming that my hair was naturally gorgeous, because let's face it, it's not, and focused instead on the cookies.

"Morning mum, I'm incredibly excited for the cookies, no the hair isn't charmed, surprising as that may be." I threw myself down onto one of the rickety wooden chairs that we've had ever since I can remember. Mum wants to toss them, but dad thinks they "add character" to the kitchen. They don't, of course, but they do add bruises to my butt. "Where's Petty?" I asked, as mum poured me some milk to go along with the cookies. That _is_ the best way to eat cookies.

"Petunia slept over at Marge's house last night. I guess Marge felt that Petunia wasn't spending as much time with her as with Yvonne and dealt with it by calling Vernon and complaining to him. Vernon proceeded to call Petunia and told her to visit Marge because she meant a lot to him." Both mum and I smirked. Marge is Vernon's sister. Yvonne is his cousin. Marge quite resembles Vernon, and therefore I shall refer to her as Ms. Walrus-Elephant from now on. Yvonne luckily escaped the genes that define Mr. and Ms. Walrus-Elephant's unfortunate appearance. That's probably why Ms. Walrus-Elephant is jealous that Petty spends more time Yvonne.

Petty severely dislikes Ms. Walrus-Elephant, partly because she has about a billion slobbery dogs that go everywhere with her. Petty's a neat-freak, so that doesn't go over well with her. Ha-ha, it's too funny, imagining her sleeping in the same house as those dogs. If I didn't hate her so much, I might even feel bad for her. But I do hate her. _Damn_, there goes the sympathy.

Oh wait, a Healer is walking towards me.

Ugh, another hour until I'm allowed to go in and see the buffoon! Bloody hell.

Anyway, after I had cookies and milk for breakfast, I confirmed with Hestia via telephone that we were meeting at 1 at this new sushi restaurant that opened up only a month ago downtown. It's quite expensive, but food is something on which I'm willing to splurge a bit. I relaxed at home after the lunch plans were set, watching some reruns on TV, before taking a shower and getting dressed.

The restaurant is rather a fancy place to dine, so I decided to put some effort into dressing well. I chose soft, white ballet flats and a light blue dress that clung close on my torso and flowed out at the bottom to a couple inches above the knee. Mum had bought it for me earlier this summer. The dress was lovely. Note the past tense. I even threw on a bit of make-up! Crazy, right? I mean, it consisted of a bit of eye-liner, mascara, and lip-gloss, but at least I tried. My surprisingly nice hair was left to its own devices.

I passed my road test right at the beginning of the summer hols, so I drove mum's shiny, red Lexus. After a minor debacle involving a squirrel, an orange peel, and a pissed off old man, I pulled into the restaurant parking lot relatively unscathed.

"Holy hell," I said to myself, looking at the imposing façade in front of me as I got out of the car. The restaurant was two floors, chic and modern looking, all steel, glass, and concrete cut at sharp angles. The entire front of the building was see-through. The inside was full to the bursting with elegantly dressed people. Against the back wall was a long bar where a row of chefs were rolling and chopping and doing whatever it takes to make sushi. I could just make out Hestia standing inside near the entrance, so I hurried up and walked in.

"Hey, Hestia! You look amazing. And this restaurant is fabulous!" We exchanged a quick hug, and I turned to continue my examination of the restaurant while Hestia informed the maître de that we needed a table for two. I'm pretty sure the guy working there didn't hear her the first time, because he was distracted by Hestia's stunning appearance in a bright, floral, floor-length summer dress. But I wasn't paying attention, because horror of horrors! There, sitting just three tables away from where we were standing, was Ms. Walrus-Elephant and Yvonne! I guess the sleepover with Petty had ended.

Judging by their loud comments and exaggerated facial expressions, Petty had insulted Ms. Walrus-Elephant's many dogs, and that was just "_completely_ and _utterly_ unacceptable and Petunia was an unequivocal slag for saying such slanderous things." Now, first of all, I don't think either Ms. Walrus-Elephant or Yvonne knows what 'unequivocal' means; the word was probably found using the word-of-the-day dog calendar that I know for a fact sits on Marge's kitchen counter (Petty always complains about the dog pictures). Second of all, I retain all rights to insult Petty! And only me! I was about to go over there and tell the two bitches that, before Hestia touched my arm and nodded her head towards the stairs. Our table was on the second floor. I thought that was perhaps for the best, so I wouldn't be provoked by the two idiots. How _wrong_ I was.

Hestia and I ordered off of the extensive menu, and amused ourselves chatting about people from school as we waited for our food. We ended up in a lively discussion over our mutual dislike of Chloe Brown, one of the three enemies I mentioned in my description.

"She's a slag, plain and simple," I announced. And it's true. Chloe Brown is a slag, a very unfairly attractive slag with perfect straight blond hair and perfect blue eyes and perfect skin and a perfect body. Damn her.

"And it's so unfair that she's so perfect looking while she has the most hideous personality! Why does that happen? So not okay." Hestia replied.

"Ugh, you're so right. Oh Merlin, remember in fourth year when Amos Diggory asked her out in the middle of the Great Hall and she proceeded to turn around and kissed Remus, who just happened to be walking by?" Hestia and I fell into hysterics remembering this, a story that characterized Brown so well. Poor Amos was emotionally scarred over that one for months. Scorn the unattractive and catch the hottest guy, single or not—that's Chloe's motto. At the time of the unrequited kiss from Chloe, Remus had been dating Amanda Ranger. They broke up soon after. Stupid girl is a slag _and_ a home-wrecker.

Hestia and I went on like that for some time, reliving memories, laughing at Chloe, and it was all well and good. But as our delicious food arrived, so did the bad stories. Bad for me, not for Hestia. Stories about the Marauders. They were bound to come up at some point, impossible that they wouldn't. The four boys are absolutely brilliant, superhumanly attractive, and incredibly charming. They're also _complete prats_. Well, I see them as the prats that they truly are, but the whole rest of the school falls easily under their grasp.

"I remember when I first noticed them, six years ago. Perhaps you remember?" Hestia smirked and winked at me as I blushed a faint red, still embarrassed all these years later.

"Yes, thank you, Hestia. Do you know how humiliating that was? I _still_ haven't lived that down.

On my very first day of school, I sat enthralled at the Gryffindor table after the Sorting Ceremony. A dream, a magnificent, beautiful dream was apparently real. I was a witch. I was at _Hogwarts_, a huge, towering, castle with innumerable secret passageways and rooms, ghosts floating and talking, and a Great Hall whose ceiling was bewitched to look like the sky outside.

Now, my poor, awe-struck self was really not prepared to be physically assaulted on my first day. Not prepared at all! And that is exactly what one arrogant, prattish boy did.

"What pure beauty we have here! Fair maiden, do me the honor of tilting up thy head, so I may gaze upon thy wondrous face." _What the hell?_ I looked up, confused, as a loud voice sounded somewhere over my head. One of the ghosts wandering about, perhaps? But no. Standing on top of the table in front of me, stood a first-year boy. His hazel eyes sparkled with mischief and humour, peeking out from under a mop of messy dark hair that seemed to rule his head. A golden, sun-kissed arm shot out towards my face, resting just before my nose. Fingers extended, beckoning.

"Are you kidding?" I snorted, with much lady-like grace. I rolled my eyes and turned away, which was a bad idea. In turning I saw exactly how much attention this boy's ridiculous antics had brought to me. The entire Great Hall was staring, and I saw even Dumbledore chuckling merrily. Well my pale skin didn't help much, and I turned a nice, bright red. Wonderful. But even that wasn't enough! My torture was not over!

Instead I was _physically assaulted_. This is _not _a _joke_. The boy grabbed my arm and literally dragged me onto the table. I was stunned! I was shocked! My limp, incredulous body provided no resistance. Now the entire hall was laughing. Everyone was in hysterics. I was about to cry.

"Yeah, you got this Potter!" someone shouted out. The boy in front of me acknowledged his fan with a wave of his hand, and refocused his attention on me. Joy. So who was this Potter kid, anyway? This kid who was already popular on the first day of school. Who, by the glares of the first-year, second-year, and even some third-year girls around me, had already managed to woo Hogwarts' female population. Well, he was—

"James. I'm James Potter. Nice to meet you." The boy now known as James Potter held out his hand for me to shake. Well _that_ wasn't going to happen. I turned and hopped off the table, settling myself on my chair, resolutely ignoring the idiot. Now I'm pretty sure all of Hogwarts was _crying_ with laughter. But Potter wasn't embarrassed, not at all. With a wink and a smirk to the crowd, he shrugged, sat back down, and kept eating his bloody dinner.

That was not the last time he'd announce his love for me. Oh no. But I'll write about that later. Anyway, after Hestia brought up the Marauders, I dug vigorously into my dinner, hoping to put off more of that conversation. And so I did. Until the very subject I was trying to avoid appeared right in front of me.


	3. Idiot Encounters (Part 1)

_A/N: _This isn't even a half of a chapter. This is pathetic. This is less than pathetic. I am a miserable, less than pathetic human. But I SWEAR the rest of this chapter will be up ASAP. It's finals week right now. What a time to start writing again. God, I'm an idiot. But ANYWAY, to those of you that read this, you are saints. Truly, you are. If I had the authority, I would call up the Vatican and proclaim it to the world. If you even deign to review the meager paragraph of writing below, then you are promoted to demigod status. You'd like to be a demigod, right? Anyway I'll be more inclined to post the rest of the chapter if I see that people are actually still interested in reading my crap. So please. Help me. I'm begging you. Though I really have no right to ask you dear sweet readers any favors. This is the end of my rambling. Rambling that is probably longer than the portion of the chapter I just posted. Lol. Fml.

**8/11**

**Hospital Waiting Room, 5:45 pm**

"Lily Evans."

I froze, a piece of sushi just centimeters away from my mouth. Surely I made a comical statue, but it couldn't be helped. I would recognize that voice anywhere. If I was drugged, knocked unconscious, stowed in a barrel, and then encased in a glacier, I would _still_ flinch if I heard that voice near my popsicle of a body.

Against every single one of my instincts, I lifted my heavy head and turned to look at the boy standing just behind my chair. I lifted my head _high_. Had he grown an entire foot since the beginning of summer? And let's be honest, it's definitely not natural for a person's skin to turn that shade of gold. He probably used one of those idiotic expensive tanning salons. I would _so_ not put it past him. And yet deep down I know that life actually _is_ that unfair, and while I am stuck with a speckled white nightmare for skin, the sun truly loves the bastard and graciously provides him the bronzed glow of which I can only dream.

"Potter." I was not inclined to speak his first name.

"Jones."

"James."

"Peter!"

And all three of us swiveled around to find Peter Pettigrew hovering behind Potter, positively quivering with excitement at being able to contribute to the conversation. Potter groaned exasperatedly.

"Wormy, you're not supposed to say your own name. " If Peter had whiskers, they would have drooped.

"Sorry Prongs. I got excited." Potter sighed at that, clearly feeling bad. Peter is rather sensitive when it comes to acting appropriately around Potter and his two other idiot friends Remus and Sirius. He looks up to the three buffoons like they're gods. But he can't be blamed, everyone in Hogwarts shares in the reverence. Except me, of course.

Potter turned back towards me and Hestia. His eyes passed over our attire. I swear his gaze lingered slowly on me just to make me uncomfortable, that bastard. "Don't worry about it. So Evans, Jones, how have your summers been?" I debated how to reply. Should I feign politeness?

"Fantastic up until now." Nope, no I shouldn't. Truthfulness pays, I always say (and by always, I mean starting now). For a fraction of a second, I thought I saw a fleeting look of hurt cross Potter's face. I _almost_ felt bad—_almost_, before he reverted to being a prick. I'm sure I must have imagined his wounded expression.

"Well, Evans. I can assure you that mine was better. The Marauders took over my family's villa in Monaco. Spent a month lying on the beach, drinking firewhiskey, and admiring pretty ladies, didn't we, Pete?" Peter stammered out an agreement. He's so twitchy. Goodness, I _am_ mean. I really ought to work on that.

"Honestly, Potter. No matter how much of your family's endless supply of wealth you splurged on yourself and your idiot group of idiot friends, your vacation cannot have been better than mine because _you_ did not have the pleasure of not seeing _you_ this whole summer." I leaned back in my chair, smug.

"Evans, that makes no sense." I scowled as Peter nodded eagerly in agreement with Potter. Even Hestia tilted her head apologetically when I looked pleadingly at her. I made perfect sense. In my head. I decided I could repeat myself for the sake of the less intelligent. Except Hestia is smarter than me. Let's ignore that.

I leaned forward. "Let me rephrase. I did not have to see your face this entire summer, Potter. And that fact alone makes my vacation better than yours any day." I guess I'll work on being nicer some other day, because that mean comment was _sooo_ worth it. Potter looked quite offended.

"Well, Evans, if you refuse to play nicely, I shall not waste my time attempting to converse with you. I have better things to do than be so rudely treated. Jones." He gave a quick nod to Hestia and marched haughtily off to a table nestled in a corner of the restaurant. Peter stumbled along after him. I snorted. Loudly. I should really fix that habit. It _is_ quite unladylike and yet so _necessary_.

"Hestia, dear. Did Potter just say that he has better things to do than be rudely treated by me?" I smirked. Hestia's eyes twinkled with amusement.

"Why yes, Lily. I do believe he did."

"Now isn't that funny, as all that the boy has done for the past six years is be thoroughly and well-deservedly abused by me?" Hestia burst into laughter.

"Funny indeed, Lily. Rather funny indeed."

Hold up. The Healer is back. He certainly looks grumpy. Just as I would be if I had to treat as annoying a patient as James Potter.

I'm allowed to see him now. This should be interesting. And by interesting, I mean absolutely terrible and a waste of time, as every one of my interactions with Potter is. My time is precious! Valuable! I cannot not be spending it on utter and complete _prats_ that don't understand that _fire_ is _not_ a _toy_. More on that later. Merlin, I hate Potter.


	4. Idiot Encounters (Part 2)

**8/11**

**My Bedroom, 11:00 pm**

I will start this entry by saying that it is _far_ past my summer hols bedtime (yes, I am pathetic and have no life and should probably just become a hermit because that's how I act anyway). I mean, I go to bed so bloody late at school doing the ridiculous amounts of homework assigned by my professors (ok…only because I procrastinate…) that I _need_ by beauty sleep. (HAH beauty.) The _only_ reason I am awake and writing right now is because today's events are far, far too eventful and I need _someone_ to listen otherwise I absolutely will not be able to sleep. How sad that the "someone" is a diary. Well. A person must pick their battles, and human interaction isn't one of mine right now. _Merlin_, I am pathetic. I'll owl Marls and Alice tomorrow. So. Right. This entry. I, uh. Right. Might as well pick up where I left off.

Ooh! Distraction! I hear Petty creeping in downstairs. I know it's her because she clops around like a horse in her house sandals. Everything about her is horsey. It's uncanny. I bet she was having a horrifically slaggish rendezvous with Mr. Walrus-Elephant. Isn't it far past her curfew for today? Why yes, yes it is. I'm talking to myself….in a diary. Anyway, might as well use her rule-breaking to my amusement and advantage!

**The Living Room, 11:30 pm**

Ok, so that didn't work out quite as well as I had hoped, because I got in trouble along with Petty, but it was _sooo_ worth it. I may or may not have screamed, "WHO'S BREAKING INTO THE HOUSE?!" causing Daddy to run downstairs with a poker from my parents' bedroom fireplace. Petty sure screamed up a storm. Haha that brat. She deserved it. The unfortunate part was that Petty then accused me of knowing it was her.

"_Lily_, you little _bitch_. You knew it was me!"

"Language, Petunia!" my mother snapped. But Petty was too furious to listen to mum, and kept on screeching away.

"Why do you always have to be such a brat!? Can't you just _once_ be normal? No one else does such rude things as you, Lily. It probably has to do with your freaky magic shit….blah blah blahhh blah blahhhhh blah blahh…." Is what I heard. I couldn't help tuning her horrific voice out. I was spending all of my time focusing on her amusingly blotchy red and purple face as she screamed. I was also trying very hard not to laugh so I wouldn't blow my cover of not knowing it was her.

But I'm shite at not laughing. So laugh I did. And now I'm sitting on the couch next to my horsey sister, listening to my mum lecture us both on responsibility and immaturity. I think she's getting particularly upset because I'm writing while she's speaking, but come on mum. We both know it's only Petty you're angry at. Besides, I definitely saw her smirk a bit when Petty was screeching, she was just better at hiding it than me.

Anyway, back to the events from earlier today. Where was I….oh right.

So James and Peter went off to their corner of the restaurant. Hestia and I finally had some peace and quiet to ourselves. But for some inexplicable reason, my eyes kept glancing over towards them. Actually, no. It was totally explicable. It's because they were up to something. I could tell. And I so did not trust them. Mostly I just didn't trust Potter. Pettigrew would probably just stumble along in whatever hair-brained schemed Potter came up with.

"Lily, dear. You seem awfully preoccupied with James. Is this a sign of…god forbid…_feelings _being returned to that lovesick boy?" Hestia smirked, awaiting what could only be a spastic, aggressive reaction on my part. She was not disappointed.

"Bloody _ew_, Hestia!" I shot back, my dysfunctional arms flailing in annoyance, knocking over both Hestia and my drinks. Yeah. Not just mine, not just hers…both. "Oops…," I grinned guiltily at the hysterical laughing girl across from me.

"A bit _too_ vehement in your answer, Lily." Hestia smirked. My guilty grin quickly morphed into a glare.

"I am _so_ not sorry for spilling your drink, Hestia Jones. You are barmy," I huffed, quite righteously. I mean, come on! Remember when I wrote that she was super smart and studious? Well that intelligence clearly does _not_ apply to her people reading skills because no way in _hell_ do I fancy James bloody Potter. I dug in to my food with renewed fervor, decidedly ignoring the pointed looks Hestia was sending my way over her now half-filled drink.

8/12 My Bedroom, 12:30am

She confiscated my diary! My mad mother actually confiscated my diary! So what I was writing while she lectured me? Didn't I already establish that she clearly thought my prank of Petty was brilliant?! Hmph. And besides, it's not like she was able to keep the diary away. Because, woman, I have a wand. And a wand is a wondrous thing. That can, with a helpful _Accio_ charm, summon objects that ought to be in my possession!

So now. The restaurant. The meal was going quite well, as I grew more relaxed and less wary of the two buffoons sitting across the room. That relaxation was the _biggest _mistake I have _ever _made. (Actually, I've made worse, but whatever.) I believe that Hestia and I were discussing whether McGonagall would ever _not_ wear her hair in a tight little bun at the nape of her neck, when a glimmer on my nearly empty plate (yes, I'm a pig) caught my eye.

It was a stag, just 5 centimeters tall. A miniature stag crafted out of _fire._ Red hot _fire_. How could anyone be so stupid as to release a fiery miniature stag in a muggle restaurant?! But I knew the answer to that question, and my head shot up to glare fiercely at a grinning James. It had to be him, Peter certainly wasn't talented enough. And that's not me being mean, that's fact. One time that boy transfigured his own fingers into carrots and then _ate_ them, the idiot.

But much to my shock, James' smug face was not the worst thing at that table. No, the worst thing was the _menagerie _of fire animals that covered the _entire _table surface. He had built a god damn bloody fucking _menagerie. _I recognized lions, stags, and dogs among a multitude of others that were galloping around, jumping over plates, climbing up the walls of the glasses, and intermittently falling off the edge of the table.

Wait, falling off the edge?! Before my frantic eyes, little fire animals darted off in all directions along the restaurant floor. It could only be seconds before they were noticed by the non-magical occupants of this fine establishment. Before said fine establishment went _up _in _flames._ I whipped around to face a wide-eyed Hestia. "We are so screwed."

Oops, my mum is banging on my door. Guess she found out about the _Accio._ Must hide the diary behind my pillow before the madwoman breaks in!


End file.
